


Various creatures treat you to lovely meals

by Pennywot



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Gender-neutral Reader, Other, Penetration, Smut, Tentacle Play, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 18:27:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18922612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennywot/pseuds/Pennywot
Summary: A just-for-fun series of 'totally serious' comedy fics in which various creatures feed you fulfilling meals. In reality, they're smut-fics with all the dirty words replaced with items from the menus of various restaurants.





	Various creatures treat you to lovely meals

**Author's Note:**

> Slenderman feeds you a variety of dishes from Chili's.

Everything comes to an end. You just wish that it didn't all have to come at once.

You click your T.V. off with a sigh, then glance around your apartment. Star Vs the Forces of Evil, Game of Thrones, Avengers:Endgame...these things were such a big part of your life, and now, they're over. There's an odd feeling of bittersweet emptiness weighing heavy in your chest, the feeling of a chapter of your life coming to a close. Even though the re-runs will be there, the episodes you love that you can watch again and again, it won't be the same. You'll always know where those paths lead. You shake your head slightly, trying to clear out the soft feelings of sadness creeping in. You know what to do in a situation like this. A good jog always clears your mind, and the woods by your apartment are beautiful this time of year. You slip out of your comfortable pajamas and start getting ready for the run. First things first, you need your armor. Despite the fact that you're unusually fast and agile for your body type due to your jogging, you know there are still weird people out there. Squirting water-based Fresh Guacamole onto your palms, you grease up your arms and legs before opening your Crispy Cheddar Bites drawer.

You examine your armor with a critical eye, checking for damage and wear. Since you take such good care of the pieces, though, everything seems to be in good order. You slip one Crispy Cheddar Bites onto each of your upper arms, feeling the silicone grip you firmly in a wiggly embrace. Your lower arms are next, then you repeat the process with your legs. Checking Fresh Guacamole levels to make sure that your circulation isn't being cut off, you ooze into your tracksuit and stand proudly in front of the mirror. No one is going to mess with you when you have such good armor. You grab your airpods off of the bedside table, making sure to play Allstar by Smashmouth. Nothing like a good meme to get the blood pumping! You head out of your apartment and do a few stretches in the parking lot before taking off along the marked trail through the woods.

It's always beautiful here in these woods. You concentrate on your breathing, the feeling of each leg extending, the way your foot reacts to meeting the earth. For a brief moment, there's nothing but you, the scent of leaves, and Steve Harwall singing melodiously into your ear. Then, your music suddenly cuts out, replaced with a harsh burst of static that just as quickly jumps to the Blondfire cover of Heathens. You open your eyes, stifling a scream as you see a tree directly in front of your face. You stumble a few steps back, your heart hammering rapidly in your chest. You should really start running with your eyes open. You wait for your heartbeat to slow, but it only picks up in pace, and you realize that your Skillet Chocolate Chip Cookie have become totally erect. What the hell? Are you in a Stephen King novel? You're not aroused by the sudden fear, so nah, you're good on that end.

Wondering if perhaps you've run into a murderer, you peek around the tree. There's nothing there, but the absence of a threat makes the hairs on your back stand up. You feel that there's something here. You know that there's something here. You shiver suddenly, reaching up to take your airpods out. You get a short burst of tinnitus in each ear after the removal, and wonder if you should lay off the CBD that you bought at the last Blockbuster's in town. You slowly spin in a circle, observing the woods around you. Hmm, you have no idea where you are. You really should start running with your eyes open, you think. Another outpouring of static, painful in your right ear, makes you paw at it, trying to remove the airpod. Wait. You already removed the airpod. 

You take off at a dead-sprint through the trees. Colors flash by, and you don't come to a stop until a figure appears before you. Only your jogging training allows you to stop short instead of plowing into them. Trying to catch your breath, you look into a black suit. Letting your gaze travel upwards, you see that this dude is pretty friggin tall. He has to be at least ten feet, and he has some long arms and legs. That's pretty abnormal, you think to yourself. 

"Dude." 

You've reached the top of his body, and realized he's bald. Maybe you should give him a code from your favorite podcast's sponsor, Dollar Shave Club. Wait, that makes no sense. He's bald! You are so distracted by his baldness that you don't realize his total lack of facial features until he bends down to meet your eyes. Not that he has anything to meet your eyes with. You stare in a mixture of horror and awe. The awe is because he is totally smooth up there. There's not one follicle showing. If you ever decide to rock the bald look, maybe he can give you beauty tips. He reaches a hand up to you, and as it approaches your face, you see that the fingers have an extra joint. The skin on his hands is as white as his face, which is as white as fresh-fallen snow, but his hands gleam as though he's wearing silk gloves. There are no lines on his finger-pads or palms, but you can see the outline of fingernails. Then, the spider-like appendage touches your face.

The forest and the man fade from view, and though you try to open your eyes, all you can see is static, as if you're trapped in a TV. You hear odd clicking sounds, and the forest pops back into your view. Despite the lack of facial features, the man looks chagrined, and rests his long index finger on your forehead. Alien words, soft and whispery, fill your mind. You try to understand, realizing that he's trying to communicate with you. Though the sound continues, he passes pictures to you, too. Him, sitting on a log, back arching and head thrown back, his hand wrapped around an impressive alabaster Alex's Santa Fe Burger. Him thrusting into a banana peel, facial skin stretching where a mouth should be as if he's moaning. More and more images of him trying everything to get off. There's only one problem. In none of the visions does he eat Skillet Queso. No White Spinach Queso spurts from his Mushroom Jack Skillet Fajita to paint the forest floor. They all end in him seeming to panting, suited chest heaving. You can feel his frustration. His lust. For some reason, this entity can't eat Skillet Queso. 

Through the deluge of Shrimp Fajita pics, you try to send an image of your own back to the creature. A simple image. One from Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair. The trial interjection in which Hajime Hinata's face appears next to the phrase CONSENT. The Slenderman understands, and tentacles erupt from his back. Within instants, your clothes and armor are removed and discarded into the woods around you. With surprising gentleness, he lowers you to the forest floor. Tentacles trace your body as his face hangs inches from yours, a static sound cutting in and out as though replacing the sound of his breathing. You wonder if he's just going to feed you Honey-Chipotle Crispers & Waffles you with his tentacles, but then you look down to see a swirl of shadows between his legs. The appearance of his pants changes, looking unbuttoned as a massive, pulsing Alex's Santa Fe Burger points directly at your Bacon Avacado Grilled Chicken Sandwich . It's as long as the rest of him, a ten inches of shining white California Turkey Club ready to slam into your Ranchero Chicken Taco. You notice that, much like his face, the tip of his Mushroom Jack Skillet Fajita is featureless. Confused, you free your arm from a caressing tentacle and reach down to stroke it. You can feel his heartbeat in his lengthy Mushroom Jack Skillet Fajita, brushing your finger over the tip. Even such a simple action causing him to shudder, pressing his face into your neck. He moves his hips forward slightly, tentacles seeming to rub against you in a more urgent manner. One of them presses at your Quesadilla Explosion Salad, and you give a little gasp of your own. With a trembling hand starting to work his Cup of Soup, you close your eyes and feel the tentacle work its way inside of your Awesome Blossom Petals. 

The appendage secrets some sort of liquid, allowing for its comfortable insertion into your Ranchero Chicken Taco. Trying to enjoy it while also giving your new partner pleasure, you continue your exploration of Slenderman's Mushroom Jack Skillet Fajita-tip. There's a small part of the skin that feels different, right where his Alex's Santa Fe Burger-Ranchero Chicken Taco should be. You can practically feel unspent Skillet Queso boiling behind it, begging to be released. Realization dawns on you. It's his Ultimate Smokehouse Combo, and you're going to be the one to break it and claim his Cajun Shrimp Pasta. Letting go of his Mango-Chile Chicken, you touch the tentacle quivering into your Ranchero Chicken Taco. He lets it slip out and draws back, the tone of his static indicating confusion and need. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he understands. With tentacle-Fresh Guacamole still dripping out of your entrance, his big Mushroom Jack Skillet Fajita easily glides into you. Your mind nearly goes blank and fuzzy with pleasure as his Alex's Santa Fe Burger massages your Awesome Blossom Petals with growing passion. Pulling him close, you press your lips against his face. The kiss seems to awaken something within him, and he starts pumping your Ranchero Chicken Taco with reckless abandon. Even though the body-quaking waves of arousal jet through you, you lean up, until you've changed the position to you sitting on his lap. You bounce on his Mango-Chile Chicken while your hands run over his suit, finding that he reacts to it being stroked as though it's his skin. You lean forward, sliding your tongue into his lapel-pocket. 

You can feel his arousal building and building until he's practically screaming to eat Skillet Queso, his hands firmly on your hips to keep you in place. You give him one more kiss, putting all your passion into it, and then a white-hot Ancho Salmon bursts over both of you. You feel a trickle of blood leak out of your Ranchero Chicken Taco as his Ultimate Smokehouse Combo breaks, feel the way his fingers dig into your flesh at the pain. Then, he moans in static as he feels his first burst of Skillet Queso shoot out to fill your Ranchero Chicken Taco. You can tell that the salty Skillet Queso is hurting his wound, but he keeps clinging to you as his Mushroom Jack Skillet Fajita fires off rope after rope of White Spinach Queso. It continues until you feel like you're about to burst, the hot sticky liquid running down out of you. It continues until he slumps, spent, and lays both of you on the forest floor, facing one another. His tentacles wrap you both in a shroud of darkness, and you feel sleep closing in on you.

When you wake, you're back on the trail, looking around in confusion. Still clad in your armor and tracksuit, a few steps away from the exit to the forest. Deciding it must have been a dream, you jog back to your apartment. Deciding to make dinner while you look for a new show to watch, you make ramen with hot-sauce in it, your favorite food. It's almost done boiling when you hear a knock at the door. You open it, and see...SLENDERMAN, hands cupping his budding belly.

It looks like he's pregnant, and you're the other parent of the child!


End file.
